The Secret's Out
by Jewel Queen
Summary: Nyota's been having some weird dreams...mostly about her kissing Spock and blue eyes that don't seem to like her very much. But what's this have to do with real life with her real Captain and real Mr. Spock? T for safety, contains bits of nu/reboot!Trek
1. Chapter 1

EDIT: **Not** a one-shot anymore ;P

This is my first TOS Star Trek fic, and it makes me a little sad (okay a lot) that it is only a little one-shot drabble thingy and contains bits of nu/reboot!Trek and S/U. That's really the only warning you need, except for one small itty-bitty expletive because of Bones' influence. Also, that this was the product of watching ST:2009's director+ commentary so it's bound to be weird.

I have to say, it was harder to write IC for TOS than what I've been doing in my reboots. Well, enough about me, E&R (enjoy and review) everyone!

* * *

><p><em>I stand there, determined and fierce but broken in a tragically sympathetic way. I can feel the walls I keep up to keep from overwhelming him start to crumble in my mind with grief-she was like a mother to me, too-but, physically, I refuse to let it show. He needs me. He needs me right now to be strong. And I will. For him.<em>

_I hold his face, cupping his cheeks lovingly as my graceful, long fingers skim across his pointed ears. "What is it?" I whisper to him because anything louder would kill us both. It is painful to swallow and continue on. It is painful to tip-toe around my emotionless but emotionally-compromised boyfriend for obvious reasons. _

_And he knows it too. He looks away. "Tell me what you _need_,"_ _I beg and plead and demand of him all at once._

_He takes my hands, covering them with a squeeze before dropping them. Vulcan assurances, more than a kiss but less than an 'I love you'. As a Xenolinguistics major and girlfriend to a Vulcan for so long, it should not be this easy to lose things in communication. It should not be this hard to chase after someone you hold in your arms._

_He says rumbling like water before the falls, "I need..." and he stops. I look away because he has already told me more than he could ever say. "I need for us all to continue performing admirably,"_

_I blink away the hurt, the rejection, and nod. "Okay," I hear myself respond even though it is anything but. Where did we go wrong? What have I mistranslated? Why am I, everything he desired as a logical mate, the closest being whom could ever come to be a lover to him, simply not _enough_ for him?_

_I reach in for one last kiss, a final goodbye and my head spins. There is no intimacy here, no spark or rush of affection anymore, just familiarity. He is dead inside, dead to me. Static in space. I can no longer read him. But I love him still, and I know I always will. He was my mentor, my first true love; I miss him already even as I only begin to pull away._

_I look over to Kirk, standing on the next closest transporter circle and I hate him for it. Hate him for being so close, hate him for witnessing my ultimate pain, hate him for never revealing his true self to me just like my Spock._

_But then I see his eyes, his cold, dark eyes that seemed to have forgotten to match the rest of his stupid, fake, bewildered expression complete with the slack jaw. They are burning, searing through me and every part of my body that touches my ex. Those blues hissing at me "Don't touch him. He's _mine_!" in such a jealous fury made my heart stop cold._

Nyota gasped awake, clutching at her heart which only a moment ago was frozen in her dreams. She put a hand to her head and glanced around her quarters that seemingly took a minute to melt back into familiarity. "It felt so real..." she murmured to herself before sighing and kicking off her covers to start her day.

The dreams had started a week ago featuring a parallel Mr. Spock and a parallel herself mostly, in their Academy days. But they were much closer than the real herself and Spock ever were-apparently dating and in a serious relationship at that. Which was more than absurd. The real Spock was much too invested in the Captain's well-being, his own duties and the efficiency of the USS Enterprise to actually begin to date someone. And even then, he was practically a Vulcan poster boy regarding emotions and attachments.

Yet, the dreams continued with more alarming intensity and it was impossible to separate herself from parallel-her until she actually woke up. She was convinced that this was another her's life that she was somehow glimpsing in what could only be another, parallel, universe. After all, she thought that she would know if Vulcan had been destroyed in real life.

And while that knowledge assured and calmed her before, there was something honest and lingering in those horrible eyes she saw of her parallel Captain. It frightened her so much that her hands were still shaking as she dressed. She had to speak to her's about it.

* * *

><p>"Captain," she asked politely, taking out her earpiece as her relief filed in. "May I have a word with you privately?"<p>

"I am sure I can spare a few for the best Communications Officer in Starfleet," Nyota almost gasped at the change his brilliant smile and charming hazel eyes were. She really should have known, though. These were the eyes she looked to for strength and comfort in times of trouble, countless times before. And, most importantly, they were nowhere near blue.

"You flatter me, sir," she said modestly.

Kirk nodded once for Spock to take his position and then jerked his head towards the turbo-lift, declining to respond to her comment. "Come," he ordered gently, nothing like the monster he was in a parallel world. "Let's talk about what's bothering you,"

"You knew?" she asked in shock as he called out for Deck 5.

"It's my job to look out for my crew. I pride myself on my ability to do exactly that," he said easily, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Such kindness, after the death and horror of her fresh dreams, brought tears to her eyes.

"Nyota," he said softly, just as gently as parallel her spoke to Spock. "You can tell me anything. Off the record, I promise,"

"Well, you see, Captain," she began, noticing now that he had stopped the lift for her. "I've been having these dreams-"

"I'm sure Bones will prescribe something for you if they trouble you like this," he interrupted.

"Oh, they're no trouble at all! I mean, usually they're quite nice. It's just..." she stopped herself with a light blush. "It's so absurd! None of it makes any sense, but it feels so real. Like I'm dreaming about an alternate reality, but _I am_ the one kissing Mister Spock, and it's really _you_ I see with those scary eyes because you're in love with Spock and he's in love with you and...and you must think I'm crazy," she slowed, seeing his far-off expression.

He blinked, as if becoming aware of her speaking to him, and rubbed his chin faintly. "Oh no, no, no," he murmured. "I don't think that at all. Although, the idea of Mister Spock and I in love does sound a little absurd," Kirk gave her a little grin and she smiled faintly back.

"Yes...yes, it rather does," she agreed quietly.

The doors opened and Kirk led Nyota to her room by his two hands guiding her shoulders. "I think we can chalk this one up to some stress. Why don't you lie down and rest for awhile and I'll send Doctor McCoy down to see you later,"

Her doors swished opened and she turned around to face him. "Oh, but Captain, I feel fine!"

He lifted his hands up in a good-natured placating way. "I'm sure you do. I'm just doing this so I don't get an earful of Bones lecturing me about diagnosing the entire crew without a medical license, because dammit, Jim, I'm the ship's CMO around here, not you!" His eyes sparkled with humour.

Nyota laughed a little. It seemed there was one constant between the parallel world and the real one at least. "Thank you, Captain," she whispered, feeling a lot more relieved.

"Think nothing of it, Lieutenant Uhura," he said warmly and turned to leave. For some strange reason, she felt there was something hidden, lurking behind those words like a warning.

She ignored that feeling and followed his orders. She put her head to her pillow and no longer dreamt about the parallel world, but never quite forgot it. The memories of phantom kisses and burning, blue eyes haunting her every now and again.

* * *

><p>Kirk stepped into Spock's quarters for their regularly scheduled chess game forty minutes early and rather stiff.<p>

"Captain," Spock greeted him, rising from his meditating. "I did not know you would be arriving so early-"

Unfathomable, calculating eyes stopped his apology in its tracks and his next words sent a foreboding chill up Spock's spine.

"She _knows_."_  
><em>


	2. Chapter 2

In which TOS/Fed-up!Bones is fed up and curses a lot, repetitively, which he may-or-may-not have in common with reboot!Bones. (Guess he/they just has those favourite few he/they sticks with) I also [super-hard, oh my goodness, bottom of my heart] apologize for taking so long (I guess when I said in August, I meant a year from now, August). The only thing I have to say for myself is that this simply would not write itself like it did before and I got very much distracted by Kurt/Puck Glee fanfics...

So, in other news, I'm expecting 2-4 more chapters depending on how difficult Spock/Jim are. Because they will be difficult. Both versions of them. You'll see. Only, I have no idea when. Please stick with me, I promise it will be worth it. I hope.

Also, keep in mind that this is from the character's POV so it might not necessarily be something that is **_true_**.

_I was always there. Somehow, even when I was doing my damnedest not to, I was there. Part of the inseparable Starfleet trio of heroes. It wouldn't bother me so much if two-thirds of the trio would only cut back on flirting _all _the_ damn _time. _

_They could be dying-for god's sake,_ _we all _are _dying! We're stuck on this damn planet slowly going insane as we speed through the aging process to our certain death-except for that damn immune hobgoblin-and there they were, without the decency to leave the room,or at least wait until that damn irritating Yeoman left, _flirting_ away._

_'How soon do you think the cure will be ready?' 'Oh very soon, Captain...I would very much like to return to the ship...Captain...' 'Oh, yes, Mr. Spock...I would...very much like to return to those things...up there...in the ship as well...Mr. Spock...' Good grief, they might as well have been rubbing noses and insisting on which one of them loved the other the most in baby voices! _

_Not blatant, my_ ass_._

_Even more insufferable was that that was all they could do. They grew closer, developing their "unique and remarkably close _friendship_" to unheard-of levels, and then left the Enterprise Bridge or Sick Bay-because the damn idiots couldn't keep themselves or each other out of harm's way for _one_ god-damn day, could they?-to _reek_ of their sexual tension and meaningful gazes and bouts of "logical" responses, in the Vulcan's case. Prejudice and homophobia was still rampant in this century, most prevalent in the militaristic and politically driven Starfleet. So neither really _could_ act on it. No matter how accepting their crew was. _No matter how blatant they __were-_and they really, really _were_-___in front of everyone._  
><em>

_Thank God I haven't yet-knock on wood-interrupted them while in their quarters. I have no desire to see what they consider _not blatant_ behaviour. _

_I think I might have to burn my eyes out just to get that image out of my mind. But it might be worth it to ask the hobgoblin to do his Vulcan voodoo and remove the memory just to see his face at my imagining them doing the horizontal tango. _

_No emotions, _my ass too_._

Leonard blinked awake like someone had soothed him out of sleep. He sighed. Don't get him wrong, it was much nicer to wake up like someone was cradling him into consciousness with the weird talking-dreams he was having; especially in comparison to the normal ones where Jim died on his table, under _his_ hands-or anyone else's, for that matter. Even the hobgoblin's distress disturbed him enough into startling awake and jumping out of bed with the nearest hypo he could find_. _And then he felt like a fool, trying to calm his racing heart when there was no medical emergency, and for _Spock_ of all people. Or, rather, of all humanoids.

He sighed again. According to the narrator in his dreams, which sounded suspiciously like an alternate version of himself from some other universe-maybe the one that Spock's self came from, who knows which (yes, he knows about that because Jim tells him everything, universal-paradox-world-ending-chaos-flibbertygibbert or not)-, that wasn't entirely true. Apparently, the _not-Captain_ would have _not-his_ head once he got over his soul-crushing grief if he let _their-Spock_ die.

It was more open in this dream-sequel, though. Something must have changed in order for them to be so frank. His other self, anti-Bones maybe, pretty much alluded to the same symptoms of those nauseating couples he found trying to have various forms of sex-whether it be eye, oral, vaginal, anal or otherwise-on Valentine's. If he hadn't seen it with his own dream-eyes or rather, _heard_ it, he wouldn't believe it.

Because, _seriously_, Spock and Jim? That had to be the world's biggest failed joke. Not only did they not mix, they were matter and anti-matter without a collision chamber. Or, red-matter and Romulans for a more modern metaphor. Last he checked, strangling someone to death did not equate to love; not even in ancient Vulcan terms.

One last sigh and he propelled himself out of bed. There would be no more sleep for him after one of those dreams. Quickly and quietly, he checked on Jim's frequencies just to be sure. It was a habit now, perhaps even borderline obsessive compulsive. With all the trouble he got into, it was a logical preventive measure. It also let him breath easier knowing with _his own_ eyes that he was all right.

And the Vulcan too. Those damn dreams were really getting to him if he was glad to see the hobgoblin alive and in good health.

As it was, Jim was in the middle of a REM cycle. Completely safe and free from harm, if he wasn't having nightmares. That kid was more screwed up than a bucket of bolts.

Now to Spock. Similar readings. Either he was meditating or taking one of those _not_-nap-naps since '_Vulcans do not require sleep'_. He'd like to call 'my ass' on that bit of hogwash.

Everything was fine. His brain knew that. Now he just wished his body would so he could go back to sleep for once. Of course, today was no different.

After wasting as much time organizing his Sickbay-which really wasn't saying much since he always kept it nice and neat barring any life-or-death disaster of a situation Jim and/or Spock got himself into-he wandered around the Enterprise.

It really was just plain ol' luck he just happened to be passing the transporter room when he heard the familiar buzz of the machine. He hated the transporter. He absolutely _hated_ travel by "beaming up". And yet, he was there in the empty room at that precise time.

He jumped in to the empty room and immediately went to the control panel he knew nothing about. He was a doctor, not a transporter technician but he couldn't _not_ try to help someone obviously in danger. Dammit, he hated feeling helpless.

Turns out he didn't need to. Whatever was beaming aboard did that just fine without his meddling.

He had his communicator out, ready to call for Jim at any moment, but something told him to wait. And, unlike Spock, he trusted his instincts, not logic. So he waited, and _boy_, was that a great decision.

He hadn't tried the dating game since his damn ex-wife divorced him. That didn't mean he didn't have a good pair of eyes that he put to work and did they _look_. The humanoid was an excellent example of whatever species it-she, he corrected-was. Her hair was elegantly cropped on the top of her head, swirling to a point that accentuated her sharp features, skin a lovely shade of browned copper, her eyes framed with the perfect amount of lashes for that shade of chocolate and her slim body filled the different but still clearly Starfleet uniform to perfection. Oddly enough, she looked remarkably like their Communications Officer, Uhura, that Jim was always flirting with much to both Spock and her's dismay.

Wait a minute, Starfleet uniform?

"Oh," she gasped, putting a hand to her head and stumbling off the pad to lean against the wall shakily. That was his cue. No more observations, he was in Doctor mode. "Where am I?" But damn, if her voice wasn't positively musical.

"Now, just hold on a minute there and don't move, miss," he grumbled politely, setting her down on what seemed to be the only chair in the room. Starfleet apparently wasn't big on furniture, or anything ergonomically comfortable really, since he had seen the way Spock's hand went to his back after a long day of bending over his long-range scanners. Though, maybe that could be because he knew Jim liked to-_goddammit,_ his dreams were corrupting his poor, abused brain!

"I'll go grab my tricorder and take a look at you. Blasted transporters, never believed they were harmless for a minute," He started to turn around and do just as he said but her light grip on his elbow swayed him for a minute.

"You, you're a doctor," she said, blinking at him. He took this time to monitor her pupils. They didn't seem to be too dilated, probably no concussion then.

"That I am, ma'am," he nodded, pulling his arm gently out of her grasp. He patted her hands as he tried to leave again. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll just go-"

"McCoy," she said, and while it was nice to hear such a pleasant way of saying his name out of her mouth-though, at this point, he would take _any_ female mouth-, the fact that he didn't know who she was but she _did_ made him suspicious with plenty reason. He narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Doctor Leonard McCoy. But you aren't my Leonard," she added with a perplexed frown.

"_Your_ Leonard?" he picked up with only just the slightest hint of amusement colouring his tone. It was obvious what she meant, but he couldn't pass up the opportunity. He got so few of them what with Jim picking up the dame-of-the-hour-every-hour-except-for-_Nyota_, it seemed. Even Chekov had caught the attention of a few ladies before _he_ did. All he had was Chapel. And, fine Nurse she may be, he was pretty sure that she had a thing for _Mr. Spock_.

Oh, well, there's no accounting for taste.

_His_ mystery lady blushed and it added a pretty layer of colour to her cheeks. What a wonderful display of vasodilation because of adenyly cyclase and adrenaline. "Oh, well...I mean," she stammered quietly. "Of course, you're not _my_ Leonard, I just meant from my universe, it seems,"

"So, we're talking alternate universes kind of thing," he said mostly to verify the apparent conclusion.

"Have you experienced them before?" she asked conversationally, as if it was something _normal_.

_Space_. What kind of idiot _chooses_ to combat the "brave unknown" that seemed to mostly consist of inter-universe travel and psychotic people?

Oh, right._ Jim_.

"You could say that," he muttered with one eyebrow raised. The way Jimmy tells stories, it's like you're tossed around in a tornado while on a vacation that you are slowly able to piece back together once the storm stops; certainly not the most coherent style, but very..._enthusiastic_ and engaging. As in, every time Jim enthusiastically blabs his mouth, he ends up _engaging_ in a headache or trying not to throw up.

Her face got a touch more playful and he actually leaned into her aura of grace and beauty automatically. She had this soft charm that made you want to stop and listen, slow down. "Just to be clear, this universe doesn't have any Spocks with a goatee, does it?"

"Spock..." he echoed, not entirely believing he was hearing right. "With a beard..." His lips twitched the more he tried to picture it and how ridiculous it would no doubt look. "_Our_ hobgoblin Spock?" And, finally, it got to him. He laughed uproariously and couldn't make himself stop. A light feminine chuckle tinkled on top of his and he grinned at the woman shielding most of her sound behind a delicate hand.

"I take it that you haven't," she said once he regained the ability to breathe normally.

"No, technically, I haven't been a part of _any_ alternate nonsense. Jim and Spock dealt with it, mostly," he frowned. "Of course, there was the whole thing with Nero, the crazy Romulan from the future,"

"A crazy Romulan," she repeated with a thoughtful frown. "I'd hate to see what makes the difference between a crazy Romulan and a normal one,"

"Yeah, well, depending on how long you're gonna be staying here," he said, light-heartedness gone. "You just might get to know the after-effects of one,"

He sighed. "Right. Now, missy, that's enough distracting for one day. I swore an oath to make sure no one comes to any harm and that's just what I'm going to do, alternate universe or not, and you'll not be getting another word from me until I give you a clean bill of health,"

"You're exactly the same, Doctor McCoy," she smiled, standing with the use of his hand but walking on her own as independent a Swahili woman as ever.


	3. Interlude

This is exactly what I meant when I said they were going to be difficult. Don't worry, next chapter is all about Uhura and nu!trekkers and what sorts of difficulties they're going to be so it should be a long chapter or two before we come back to the final resolution ;P

To angym: thank you so much. That's actually a big worry for me-I get these grand ideas from reviewers past and I'm afraid they won't compare at all to your expectations, so I'm glad you don't think that's true at least. ;P

and Guest: I certainly hope not lol but I can't really give you any hints because I don't want to spoil it so I guess you'll just have to wait (and who knows how long that will be)

_Kirk stepped into Spock's quarters for their regularly scheduled chess game forty minutes early and rather stiff._

_"Captain," Spock greeted him, rising from his meditating. "I did not know you would be arriving so early-"_

_Unfathomable, calculating eyes stopped his apology in its tracks and his next words sent a foreboding chill up Spock's spine._

_"She _knows_."  
><em>

Spock's breath caught in an audible puff and his eyes widened faintly at Jim's audacity. There was no question of what those two words meant, but he had not thought they would be spoken, nor even addressed so bluntly in his entire lifetime. He had calculated the odds to be negligible.

Apparently Jim had not meant to either.

His bright hazel eyes darkened with fear and he immediately regretted blurting out what he just said; they were at the point where he no longer second-guessed his teasing phrases and just went out with them regardless of the reaction, though mostly ones he desired or to that effect, that he got. But now, because of their closeness, he lost his filter and he spoke of the thing-that-shall-not-be-named.

"Perhaps," Spock said slowly, testing the words as much as he was testing the silent tension that layered the room like an invisible cloud. "You should elaborate. Who is in possession of what information?"

"Nothing, no one. Forget I even mentioned it," he waved casually, speaking too fast to be entirely casual and Spock _knew_ that. That was part of the problem. They knew each other too well so the code they spoke in mutual unofficial agreement was only deciphered by the only other person who remotely came close to their understanding of one another, Leonard McCoy; he had nowhere to hide.

Spock shifted, moving his arms behind him; a small movement, but Jim was trained to register every movement he made, or rather, became attuned to each one of them because that was where Spock expressed himself emotionally-in the smallest of motions or gestures or phrases. "It distresses you, Jim," he pressed gently, but still uncharacteristically. It was an act of bravery equivalent to declaring war. "As your First Officer-"

"God-dammit!" Jim exclaimed, frustrated by that one code as the very symbol of what was wrong. "This is so stupid!_ I_ know, _you_ know, McCoy knows, and now she knows-or, at the very least, she's going to seriously consider it-but, in the end, everybody is going to know and gossip and we'll have to deny, deny, deny and hide it away to never talk about it like always because-because I don't even _know_ why. It's just something we _do_, and I'm so tired of it!"

He covered his face with his hands and sighed into them, missing how Spock tightened his hands behind his back and took a tentative step forward. "Does this mean-?"

Jim looked up at the logical being before him, not one to "make guesses" or even dare to speak them, but clearly saw the hope in his eyes and swallowed painfully. "Spock, I..I-" But words failed him too. "You're important to Starfleet," he murmured with a wince, feeling guilt swamp him in a sticky sense of muted horror at himself and his cowardice, going back to where it was safe and familiar instead of boldly braving the unknown.

He forced himself to watch the hurt and disappointment flicker across Spock's face as part of his punishment. The Vulcan seemed to deflate even though his shoulders remained as tense as before. "I see," he said quietly, turning to the side and setting his eyes on the chessboard he had prepared already. "I believe that our matches are unfortunately unable to continue until further notice,"

"Spock," Jim breathed, heartbroken. The tone made Spock spare his Captain a glance.

"Jim," he replied in kind, the pain that had no reason to be there since they _weren't_ anything and Jim _hadn't_ promised him anything, fully evident. It made his heart clench. "I require my privacy for meditation. It is a necessary biological process for my race, as you well know, and-"

"No, I understand," he said, turning around and slinking away in shame. "I'm sorry Spock,"

He didn't even say "apologies are illogical"; he just dipped his head and watched him leave. That was when he really knew he had screwed himself over. Jim cast a look over his shoulder, a look to say goodbye and apologize once more, but Spock pointedly turned away just as the doors slid to a close on him like a physical wall to match the emotional one now between them.

He couldn't repress his urge to sigh and run a hand over his face, leaning against the doors for support. How ironic was it that even now, in a moment of weakness caused by Mister Spock, he was drawing support from the very wall that separated them.

Moment of weakness. He was a Captain, he couldn't afford such things. He drew himself straighter with a grim, determined grimace. He would carry on with his life the same way he had carried on with the burden of captaincy before he had Spock as his First.

Though, he couldn't remember a time when Spock wasn't his First and didn't particularly ever care to return to that.


End file.
